


All in Health

by JesusCheese



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anorexia, Canon Compliant, Eating Disorders, Hurt No Comfort, Kim Mingyu-centric, Mental Health Issues, One Shot, Sick Character, orthorexia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28702056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JesusCheese/pseuds/JesusCheese
Summary: There he was, kneeling on the bathroom tiles with Wonwoo banging on the locked door, sobbing over oatmeal and the roll of skin- skin, not even fat,- on his stomach, and it made no difference to Mingyu. Any part of his body that folded, stretched, or bulged made him want to disappear. Every morsel that passed his lips was poison. It was then that he made the realization.Maybe Mingyu wasn’t as healthy as he’d originally thought.Maybe Mingyu was sick.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Everyone, Kim Mingyu/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 118





	All in Health

**Author's Note:**

> If you couldn't tell, BIG trigger warning for disordered eating. Don't read this if it might hurt you, loves.

Mingyu knew the exact day that he decided that his weight was a problem.

It was the first day in his weight loss journal, the first entry on his weight loss app, the first time his tailored clothes didn’t fit him just right, and the first time that he went over 180 pounds.

He glanced down at the stylist when she tutted, furrowing her eyebrows and frowning when his buttons didn’t quite meet. “Mingyu, do you remember when we last took your measurements?”

He thought back. “Uhm...it must’ve been about two weeks ago. Why? Something wrong?”

“Looks like things have changed since then,” she explained, giving up on the button and pulling off the jacket. “I’ll see if we have anything else on our racks.”

Mingyu frowned, running his hands along his sides and feeling his body. It was the same that it had always been, wasn’t it? Muscular, strong, tan, capable, healthy...how could it have changed shape so drastically that his buttons were bursting. He pulled at his pants...they were just a little tighter than normal. There was a sinking feeling in his chest- one that he'd never felt before. He wasn't sure that he liked it.

“Are you sure it wasn’t the measurements?” he asked as she returned with a different jacket.

“No dear, we double check every measurement we take to avoid this situation,” she responded, sliding on the new clothing item and buttoning it up well. Still tight in an even larger size. “This looks good.” She smiled at him, smoothing down his collar. “Don’t go getting down on yourself because you gained some weight, Mingyu. It happens sometimes. Just cut down on fried foods and deserts, and you’ll be right as rain.”

“I’m sorry about this, noona,” he apologized. “I’ll have to take better care of my health.”

“As long as you’re losing weight for your health, you’re doing it for the right reasons. I’ve seen too many idols fall down that slippery slope, and I don’t want you to be the next one, you hear?”

“Yes ma’am,” Mingyu laughed. He wasn't one of 'those' idols...there wasn't anything wrong with them, of course, but- but Mingyu just didn't get it. Being thin is all fine and well if that's what your body looks like, but what person in their right mind would ever deprive themselves to achieve an unrealistic look far smaller than beauty standards and far more underweight than healthy.

“Alright, now get going. I’ve got eight other boys to get through in forty minutes.” She shooed him away, calling up DK from where he was watching videos and eating chips on the couch. The thought of eating the chips made Mingyu sigh in defeat. Salty, buttery, oily, and delicious. He'd have to go without them for a little while until his belly fit in his pants without puffing over the top.

“Thanks again,” Mingyu called back halfheartedly, shaking off the interaction in preparation for the stage. He couldn’t let something as miniscule as a jacket that didn’t fit right get in the way of him and a fantastic night. If anything, he’d put on muscle mass in the past two weeks- a product of nightly gym sessions with Jihoon and Joshua. His performance clothes would fit just a little bit tighter to his pectorals and arm muscles, and the fans would go crazy. His body was in perfect condition.

He’d just pay closer attention to his diet and do more cardio. It wasn’t a big deal.

…

He’d grimaced- actually grimaced- when he saw the numbers on the scale displaying 183.4 pounds. “Dear god,” he exhaled out loud, looking at his shirtless form in the mirror. He looked...good. He was in the best shape he’d been in nearly his whole life. And yet, he was at his heaviest. The last time he’d stepped on a scale, he was 20 pounds lighter.

Curiously, he slipped out his phone and typed in the three letters that would control his life for the foreseeable future: BMI. Typing in his height- six feet two inches- and his weight- 183.4 “ugh”- the number came out.

“Normal?” he asked, double checking in his mind that the Center for Disease Control was indeed a reliable source for all things ‘health’. “How can it be normal?”

Because- god, if he was above 180 pounds and still within the normal range, he must’ve been severely underweight when he debuted. He was tall and muscular; of course it made sense that he’d be healthy at a weight that high...He was healthy. But he could do without a lot of that extra weight he was carrying around. A lot of it was probably fat anyways.

He opened the app store and downloaded a calorie counter. “Just to get back to where I was,” he told himself. “Just to fit into my clothes.” Plus, if his body fat percentage was lower, his muscles would stand out more. Instead of being bulky, he’d have lean muscle- cut muscle.

He made a meal plan- less carbs, less fats, less calories, more protein. He’d run at the gym before lifting weights. He’d take the stairs at the company. He’d drink more water.

He’d lose 20 pounds and maintain that figure.

And he was doing it for the right reasons too, because he loved his body. Sure he did. He didn’t like the number on the scale, but his body was just fine. He didn’t hate himself or the way he looked.

This was a diet and nothing more.

…

“You’re going to run?” Jihoon asked, lacing up his shoes on the bench. Mingyu nodded, stretching his legs and looking to the indoor track at their gym. “...Why?”

“Good for cardiovascular health,” Mingyu noted. “Plus, I’m trying to lose a few pounds. I figured a mile or two before every workout session couldn’t hurt, you know?”

“You want me to run with you?”

Mingyu smirked at the elder. “You wouldn’t be able to keep up, muscle pig.”

“That’s a declaration for a race, if I’ve ever heard one,” Jihoon laughed, pushing himself off the bench. “I’m in.”

“Not a race,” Mingyu corrected. “A test for endurance. Whoever runs for more time wins.”

“And buys the other dinner.”

“Only if it’s not fried.”

Woozi frowned. “Are you on a diet or something? What’s up with all this health stuff lately?”

“I didn’t fit into my stage jacket yesterday,” Mingyu admitted, holding up a hand to stop his hyung when his mouth opened. “I know that I’m healthy and that my body is good, okay? I’m not...sick, or anything. My weight is just higher than it’s ever been, and I’d like to get back to where I was a few months ago. That’s all.”

“You realized that most of that weight is muscle, right?”

“I know. I also know that that muscle would look sharper and even better if I ran a couple days a week and cut out junk food. It’s better for me in general, anyways. You can be skinny and still have high cholesterol, you know.”

“It’s good that you’re taking control of your health, Gyu. Truly an inspiration.” He held his heart, wiping away a fake tear. Mingyu shoved him playfully. "I'm still not going to give up dumplings, though."

“Get ready to eat my endurance dust.”

“Ready?” Jihoon checked his watch. “Go!”

…

“You want some soda with that?” DK asked, offering him a can. Mingyu shook his head, taking a swig of his water and patting the younger on the back as a thank you. Water was a constant. It kept toxins out of his body and kept the weight rolling off. It also prevented him from filling his stomach more than he needed to during meals and drinking his calories.

His plate consisted of two baked chicken breasts, steamed broccoli, watermelon, and a healthy serving of kimchi. He inputted it all into his app, smiling at the number of calories that glowed up at him. He was well under his daily allowance. Clicking on the ‘progress’ button, he saw the line graph, each set of data closer to the goal line than the last. In the past week alone, he’d lost three pounds- well on his way to 160. He couldn’t see a difference yet, but he definitely felt it. His legs burned from running, but gradually, his calf muscles were beginning to strengthen. One mile became easy, two was a little bit difficult, three was generally where he stopped. If he kept it up, though, he could be doing much, much more. Then, eventually, he could speed up pace to get more miles in a shorter time and more calories burned. Sometimes- to mix things up- he’d throw in a few short sprints. He felt healthy, powerful, amazing.

And he still loved his body. He was still doing it for his health. He was still in control. He could eat the fried food that the rest of them were enjoying if he wanted to. He could. But he knew that if he wanted to see real results, his healthy lifestyle had to be just that- a lifestyle.

“Your dinner looks good, Mingyu,” Seungcheol commented, plucking a piece of watermelon. “Almost makes me want to eat better.”

“Almost?”

“I love cheesecake too much.”

And honestly? Who was Mingyu to argue with that?

…

His BMI had only dropped three tenths? After a week and a half of running every day and vigilant diet, it had only dropped three tenths? Three pounds seemed like a lot in one week, but- god, now it seemed like almost nothing. He pulled off his shirt and pants, stepping on the scale and smiling when it dropped four tenths of a pound. Walking over to the toilet, he emptied his bladder and tried once more, standing with freezing feet in his boxers.

“179.8,” he grinned. He’d gotten back under 180, and it felt good. He looked at himself in the mirror, running his hands over his chest and arms. They felt just like they always did, but maybe- maybe they felt a bit more defined than before. Whether it was a figment of his imagination or actual change in his body’s fat content, it didn’t matter. His confidence boosted, his endorphins flowed, and his mouth stretched wide.

“Open up, come on! I’ve got to pee!”

“Go use Joshua’s,” he called back, slipping on his pants and securing the scale under the sink once more.

“Joshua’s in there!” Somebody- Seungkwan, by the sound of it- whined back. “I’d go off the balcony, but it seems indecent.”

Mingyu pulled open the door, clutching his shirt by his side. “We’ve got a kitchen sink.” He wiggled his brows.

“Move,” Seungkwan demanded, doing a potty dance. “Your chest looks good, Gyu. Maybe you should message BM and request your invitation.”

“My invitation?”

Seungkwan pushed past, closing the door and locking it. “Now presenting, Kim MIngyu! The newest member of the Big TIddie Committe!”

Somewhere in the house, a cheer arose. Mingyu rolled his eyes, secretly in love with the way the complement made him feel. If Seungkwan noticed a change, there had to be something different. He wanted to lose more, wanted to live in this feeling, wanted to see those same kinds of comments from the fans, wanted to wear more revealing clothes- the possibilities were so real. It had been only a week, and his lifestyle change was already fueling his confidence and motivation more than anything had in a long time.

And he still loved his body, still valued his health.

He had no reason to stop losing weight. Once he reached his goal, he’d be at the best he’d ever been. And he'd stop. At 160, he'd stop.

…

“You barely even lift with me anymore,” Jihoon pouted, spinning around in his chair. “You run like...six miles-.”

“The most I’ve done is five.”

“And you never actually work out. I mean, like, I know you're being healthy and stuff, but lifting is healthy! I don't lift as much without you to demolish, and I'm unmotivated, Gyu. Come on!”

Mingyu studied the producer, smiling. “Are you done?” Woozi glared. “One, running is a workout. Two, my goal isn’t bulking anymore. I’m trying to lose weight-”

“You’re not even overweight!”

“-and improve my health in general. Come on, hyung, admit it. You’re only upset because you’re lonely. Say it. Say you miss me.”

“I miss you,” he admitted easily, not even hesitating. “Now will you work out with me?”

“...no.”

“Jackass.”

…

At two weeks, Mingyu plateaus. Running more and more had obvious benefits for his weight loss journey. By the end of the fourteen days, he had lost 9 pounds in total, though the weight tended to fluctuate a bit. Some days, he lost a whole pound. Other days, maybe two tenths.

But two weeks after he began, he gained weight. And for some reason, it hurt like hell- a kind of guilt and anxiety deep in his gut. It was the same feeling he had when the jacket wouldn't fit at the shoot. He removed all of his clothes, peed, even waited a few hours and tried again, but the number went up further. He went on his weight loss app and checked the graph, wanting to throw his phone at the sight of the line going up for the first time- even if it was only less than half of a pound.

He looked at his body, seeing the definition of his chest and biceps. Despite focusing mostly on cardio, his muscles were still prominent. He’d lost fat in his cheeks- just barely. It felt good to see progress in the mirror.

He still loved his body. He still cared about his health.

But his weight had gone up, and he didn’t want to eat for the rest of the day. He wanted to go run until every ounce- every gram that he’d gained- was expelled through sweat. The thought of putting a morsel of food past his lips disgusted him because he was heavier. Mingyu was heavy.

He’d been making progress. His BMI had gone down from 23.5 to 22.5- a whole digit difference. He was almost at ten pounds lighter- halfway to his weight loss goal, and he was going the wrong way. He’d just have to work harder. 

“Mingyu, we’re leaving in twenty minutes! Don’t hog the bathroom and make sure to get some food before you leave!”

“I’ll be right out,” he called to Seungcheol, putting away the scale, pulling on his clothes, and patting his phone against his thigh. Was his weight gain evident in his thighs? In his arms? In his stomach? That fraction of a pound had to be somewhere on his body.

He’d have to look up diet tips on the internet. Surely there were people in his same situation out there; they’d know what to do. Maybe he could do...oh, what was it called- keto? Maybe he could do that. Or- or he could fast. Or go vegan. 

No, probably not that, Mingyu decided. He needed the protein that came from baked chicken, but surely there would be some sort of...replacements for normally high-calorie foods, right? Some sort of alternative for overweight people to lose a lot, and lose quickly. Before Mingyu could even remember to grab some food on the way out, he was being herded out the door and towards the car...Maybe skipping breakfast wouldn’t be too bad. He wasn’t hungry this early in the morning anyways, and by the time that his stomach would beg for sustenance, it would be time for lunch. He could skip breakfast. And if it didn’t go well, he’d just have to make sure to eat it tomorrow.

And as absurd as it sounded, he was beginning to look forward to his lunch- maybe some chicken, fruit, and salad again. But more than that, he was excited to weigh in the next day, just to see how much his new idea would affect his weight.

He’d definitely be doing some research in his downtime.

…

He only realized what he’d done after the meal was gone, sitting heavily in his full stomach along with calorie filled, carb filled beer. There had been fried foods, thick soups, noodles- god, noodles- and more than enough red, greasy meat. He’d absolutely stuffed himself. And after nearly two weeks of cutting more calories to lower his weight, of drinking only water and eating only when his stomach was crying out in pain, he’d stuffed himself full. 

He felt sick.

“You alright?” Woozi asked on the down-low, nudging his leg- his leg that would surely become bloated and fat after this meal. “You look sad.”

“Tired and a little drunk,” Mingyu excused himself. It wasn’t too far from the truth, really, but if he went off on a tangent about his feelings- about how he felt close to tears because he’d be fat tomorrow, or how the way his stomach pressed against his belt made him nauseous, there’d be more questions.

He just didn’t feel up for it. He wanted to go home and flood his system with water, to get it all out before he weighed himself first-thing the next day. “I’m feeling overwhelmed.”

The smaller boy frowned, reaching out to hold his hand for a moment. “Want me to go home with you?”

“No, you never get out of the studio,” Mingyu teased, shaking his head. “I’ll go home alone.” He wanted to cry alone, to puke alone if his nausea didn’t calm down by the time he arrived at the dorm. 

“Not drunk, you won’t. I’m feeling rough too; let’s leave.” Mingyu knew that was a lie. He was fine all night. Jihoon loved going out to eat with the members. “Seriously, you’re not taking me away from anything. I’m feeling like a movie would be good- just us two.”

He stood after Jihoon explained that they were both headed back and to keep “partying in their absence”. His head was a swirl of emotions. Did he feel heavier? Did his BMI feel higher? Did his muscles feel less defined, hidden by a layer of fat? “I’m not feeling up for a movie tonight, hyung.”

Jihoon nodded, taking a deep breath of the night air. “You’ve been off lately, Gyu. Something wrong?”

Had he been? He thought he’d been more energetic, more optimistic than ever before. Apart from the setback a few weeks previous, he’d been shedding off weight- down from 183.4 to 166.2- 17.2 pounds lost in almost a month and a half. Compliments were constant. His smile was permanent.

“I’m happy.”

Jihoon sighed. “As long as you’re happy, that’s what’s important. How’s that diet treating you? You’re looking smaller than before.”

“I feel good. I’m losing fat.”

“But not too much, right? You know that- that because you’re tall, you’re supposed to be heavier than the rest of us, right? And you know that muscle is denser than fat, so your weight can be high without you being fat. You’re healthy.”

“I know that.” Because, really, he did. 183.4 was considered ‘normal’, but it was certainly a whole lot heavier than he had been in the past. If his goal weight was his ‘normal’ then, it could be his ‘normal’ now. He was losing fat, and there was nothing unhealthy about that. “I’m just trying to be healthy.”

“You are healthy.”

“Healthier,” Mingyu amended. “I feel sick.”

“You ate a lot today after a month of strict dieting,” Jihoon said, and christ, if Mingyu had to choose one thing he really didn’t want to hear, that would be it. Even if he knew it in his heart- knew that he’d fucked up his diet- it was harder to hear Jihoon say it. “You’ll feel better once it’s out of your system.”

Water. Drinking water. Going to the bathroom...forcing himself to go to the bathroom? Would that get the unhealthy food out of his body?

“You’re right.”

…

He spent an hour in the bathroom, scrolling through his phone, legs numb. He needed to be healthier. That day was definitely a slip, and he was sure that the food had already become one with his body, even with the quick use of the laxatives in the back of the cabinet. Woozi checked on him a few times, but each time, he just told him that the food had upset his stomach.

It was believable enough.

“Meat has a high level of saturated fats and can lead to high cholesterol and heart issues,” Mingyu read quietly, the anxiety of it all making his heart pound. He ate a baked chicken breast for every meal- one at around eleven and another later at night- maybe eight. “Chicken consumption is associated with a higher risk of blood cancer and prostate cancer in men.”

Shit. He needed to cut that out if he was ever going to lead a healthy life. What if he got blood cancer? His career would be over. His life would be over.

As the time went on, he opened his notes app, listing foods that were off limits. Foods that would make him sick, because- at this point- this was so, so much more than his BMI or weight. This was life and death.

Sugar  
Carbs  
Any Fried Food  
Meat  
Eggs  
Whole Milk  
Potatoes  
Bread

By the end of it, he had what- to most people- looked like a grocery list. To him, it looked like cancer, like cardiovascular disease, like obesity, like the end of his career.

He wanted to be healthy. He cared for his health, first and foremost. His weight was an afterthought- a symptom of a bigger disease. What he was putting into his body was poison.

He was doing this for his health, ridding himself of the bad food and making a vow to never consume it again. 

These were the right reasons.

…

“Mingyu’s being weird,” Woozi whined, turning his head to face Joshua as he laid on the elder’s thigh. “Hey, look at me.”

Joshua held up a finger, finishing whatever he was doing in his phone before clicking it off and tossing it to the side. “Mingyu’s always been weird.”

He pushed himself up to look at Joshua directly. “I’m serious, hyung. I think he’s struggling with food.”

Joshua’s mouth shape fell into an ‘o’ as he tried to think back to Mingyu’s behavior. Had he been weird around food? None of them really ate breakfast together, and lunch was mostly a do-it-yourself type deal as well. On their breaks, they all escaped each other for some alone time. Well, except DK and Jeonghan, who spent every living moment together. 

Mingyu only chose side dishes at dinner, though, avoiding the main meal. He’d take Kimchi and salad. He avoided desert but would eat fruit.

“He eats,” Joshua thought out loud. “I know he eats.”

“Yeah, me too, but after we went out to eat a little while back, he was all weird.”

“Maybe it was because he was having a bad day. Why do you think it’s a problem with food?”

“Because he’s different around food- pickier than he was in the past. He stares at nutrition labels and measures out portions exactly. Before, he’d eat until he was content and that was that.”

“Well, he is on a diet.”

“Yeah, but- I don’t know, hyung. I just feel weird about it.”

“You should talk to him, then. If anybody should confront him, it’s you. Just ask him what’s up, and if he brushes you off or lies-”

“It’d be obvious. He’s bad at lying.”

“Right, so if he does lie, just tell me, and we can decide what to do from there. Maybe offer him some food in the future to see what he does with it. If we need to, we can tell Cheol.”

“Mingyu’s always been focused on his health; I just don’t get it.”

“Don’t stress too much, Ji. He’s Mingyu. He loves and takes care of his body better than any of us. He’s smaller and lighter but not unhealthy.”

“You’re right,” Woozi admitted, sighing and laying back down. “I’m just paranoid.”

Mingyu was eating, and that was enough. He’d just keep a closer eye on him in the future.

…

Mingyu felt cold constantly, but the longer he kept the bad foods out of his body, the easier it became to avoid food altogether. He drank tea for breakfast, tea with fruit for lunch, and tea with plain vegetables for dinner.

At the start, he’d needed to eat in his room to avoid plucking food from the other member’s plates out of habit. Then, it became a constant- chewing food until it was mush on his tongue and swallowing thickly; mechanically. He ate for fuel, not for pleasure.

A knock at the door interrupted his thought process- healthy, healthy, healthy, healthy- “Mingyu?”

He drank his water, shivering and pulling his sweatshirt down lower on his wrists. “Come in.”

Woozi stepped in, a bag dangling from his hand. The younger couldn’t help observe the way he moved around his bedroom- calculated, curious, practiced. “Wanna watch a movie?”

Mingyu shrugged, setting his plate on the table beside his bed. “What movie?”

“You can choose. I’m bored and can’t tolerate anybody else right now.”

“I’m flattered, hyung, really.” Mingyu picked his legs up on his bed as Jihoon rolled over the computer chair and propped his feet up as well, leaning back and grabbing the remote to drop on Mingyu’s lap.

He flipped through for a while, clicking on a few to read before clicking off, a bad habit of the rapper. He loved to save movies for later in his head instead of watching it just then, too scared of others hating his choice. “If you see one you like, let me know.”

Jihoon hemmed, finally opening up the bag and pulling out the pastry he’d just picked up on the way home- still warm, steaming and filling his nose with the warm bread smell. “I got this on the way home,” he said simply, setting it gently on Mingyu’s thigh and waiting for his reaction.

“I’m alright, thanks,” he responded, handing it back to him with his eyes still plastered on the screen.

“What? Why?”

“Trying to cut back on carbs,” Mingyu answered, eyebrows furrowing. It was frustrating, really, to have people shoving unhealthy foods in your face. What if he slipped up again? “You should too.”

“What?”

“Carbs are bad for you...Hey, have you ever seen this one?”

Jihoon cast a side glance at the television. “No. Hey- carbs give you energy.”

“Carbs make you fat,” Mingyu objected. “I’m not going to eat it, Jihoon. I’ve got energy.” That was a lie. Along with feeling cold, he was feeling tired and shaky for the past couple weeks. It was a small price to pay for a six pack that stood out starkly on his tanned abdomen, biceps that pulled against his skin instead of fat...if only his muscles pulled against his clothes as well. Recently, they hadn’t been.

Jihoon had come prepared, googling the healthiest desert that was still- well- desert. “Angel food cake? It’s a low carb dessert.”

“No, thanks.”

“Mingyu, it’s really not bad for you, here- look online-”

“Hyung, I don’t want it.”

“But-”

“Hyung, just give it to somebody else!” Mingyu snapped, frustrated. He picked up a bell pepper and crushed it up in his mouth. “Ask literally any other member or eat both yourself, for all I care. Stop harassing me when I’m trying to stay fit.”

That was the conclusion to Jihoon’s experiment. Final verdict: Mingyu’s eating habits were definitely out of whack. Throughout the past few days that Jihoon had been watching him, he hadn’t seen anything other than tea, water, fruit, and vegetables pass his lips.

“I think there’s something wrong with your eating habits, Mingyu.” He was never one for subtlety.

“Get out.”

“No.”

Mingyu sighed, turning off the TV and looked at Jihoon for the first time since he’d sat down in his chair. “I’m going to say this in the nicest way I know how to. You’re unhealthy. Everybody’s unhealthy, and every time I see one of you eat, I can imagine the cancer brewing in your body and your arteries clogging. Excuse me if I don’t want to die at thirty, hyung. I don’t hate myself, I won’t starve, and I’m not going to go and destroy myself to see my hip bones pop out of my skin. I’m not-” Mingyu paused, eyes downcast. “I’m not Seungkwan.”

Jihoon slapped him hard across the cheek, soaking the way up his face turned forcefully away from the impact. That was, before all 180 pounds (except he couldn’t be 180 pounds...not when he felt so light. How much weight had he lost?) of Kim Mingyu slammed into him, hands on his shoulders to take him to the floor. It lacked the strength that he once possessed. With Mingyu holding his arms by his head, body pressing down on his stomach, it was easy to tell that he was no longer the weight he once was. 

Jihoon rolled him over with a grunt, getting on top and pinning his arms down with his knees. “Take off your shirt!” he demanded, scrabbling at the fabric. He needed to see if he had a concave stomach, if his ribs poked through the skin, if he had bruises from small bumps that left the discoloration of malnutrition.

“Get the fuck off me! Get off! Get off me you fat bastard! Get off!”

The door burst open as Jihoon got the shirt up, seeing a slim waist that didn’t even fill his pajama pants properly. His muscles were accentuated by a frightening lack of fat, but anybody who’d been working out with him and seeing his half-naked body every day could see that even his muscles were smaller. 

He was smaller. He was lighter. He was eating but not enough- not the right foods. He grew violent at the mention of a pastry. He insulted Jihoon and made light of Seungkwan’s past struggles, something that the right-minded Mingyu never would’ve dared to do. “Look at you! Your pants don’t even fit!”

“Get off me!” 

DK pulled Jihoon off, a serious yet panicked look on his face as he held out an arm to keep both of his brothers at bay. Dino was standing close to the door, ready to run out for more help if need be.

“What’s happening?” DK asked, whirling around on Jihoon. “Hyung, what were you doing?”

“He insulted Seungkwan!”

“I did not! He starved himself, and all I said was the truth. You were the one who tried to force food in my face and slapped me when I wouldn’t willingly fatten myself up. What’s your deal, huh? Are you trying to kill me? Do you want me to die? Are you so-”

“Hyung, please,” Dino called out, holding out his hand. “Let’s go to the living room.”

“No, this is my room, and this- this-” He waved his finger at Jihoon.

“Watch it,” Jihoon warned angrily. ”Don’t let your mouth get away with you a second time.”

“Get the fuck out,” Mingyu hissed, taking a fast step forward but stopping when Dino grabbed his arm and pulled against him. Mingyu didn’t stop trying, but what was terrifying was that Dino was actually managing to hold him back. Mingyu was supposed to be stronger. “Get out!”

“You’re letting our maknae stop you!” Jihoon spat. “Can’t you see how weak you’ve become? You can’t even fight off Dino!”

“Hyung please!” Dokyeom called. “It’s his room,” Dk rationalized. “Come on, let’s talk in the living room, and we can talk more about it when everybody’s calmed down...Please, hyung. Please just come with me.”

Slowly, Jihoon left the room with a glare, opening his mouth to retort but stopping when DK turned him back towards the door with a gentle push and urging him to shuffle his feet along quicker. Once they were finally on the other side of the bedroom door, Jihoon wiped the tear from his cheek, huffing and escaping to the bathroom before DK could even get a word in. Something bad had transpired in that room, obviously. A fight between the shortest and tallest happened so rarely that the thought of it seemed absurd. Now, they had Jihoon crying in the bathroom and Mingyu livid in his bedroom, two of the younger members trying to cool off the whole situation.

Whatever it was, they were going to have to figure it out, and quick. Pissed members made for tense atmospheres and horrible schedules. 

It wasn’t going to be easy.

…

“Good morning, Mingyu.”

Mingyu grunted at Jeonghan, pouring himself a thermos of tea for breakfast and wiping his face with his sweater paws. “If you’re going to say something about what happened yesterday, I’m not going to respond.”

Jeonghan chuckled, walking over and patting Mingyu’s shoulder. “I just said good morning.”

“Good morning, then.”

“Have you talked to Jihoon?”

“What did I just say? Ten seconds- no not even ten seconds ago, what did I say? I swear, I’m the only one who understands Korean here.”

“Okay, okay,” Jeonghan pacified, hands out. “We don’t have to talk about it right now because it’s the morning and I don’t want to start the day off wrong. Just know that eventually, people are going to want this figured out, and they’re not going to be nearly as gentle as I am about it. Okay?”

“There’s nothing to figure out. Jihoon and I had a disagreement, it escalated, and it’s over. I’m staying out of his way and he’s staying out of mine.”

He left the room both to avoid Jeonghan’s response and to sit on the corner of his bed. There were silver dots flashing and swimming in his vision, and he just needed a moment. The stress of Jihoon trying to fill him up must’ve gotten to him. He ran through his morning schedule- weigh himself, plan his meals for that day depending on what the scale said, take a shower, get to work...Avoid Jihoon.

Simple enough.

…

Their new album- the one they’d been preparing so hard for finally came out only two weeks after the altercation. It was a relief to Mingyu, knowing that none of them would be constantly vigilant. If he was being honest, none of them really had been for the past month or so...none except Jihoon.

But now that they had shows, it was easier to count his calories over and over again, to poke through his food, to throw it away if he deemed it unhealthy enough...Mingyu was progressing in leaps and bounds, now that nobody was forcing him to get fat.

“Our first music bank performance is tomorrow, so I want everybody behaving themselves, especially when it comes to sleep, practice, and food,” Seungcheol was saying. “We’ve done this a million times. We know the drill. It’s an early morning, so you’re all free to go. Let’s get excited!”

“Fighting!” they cheered, before scampering away to their respective rooms to get some sleep in or waste away the hours on their phones, the nervousness keeping them too awake for any rest.

“Mingyu, hold back a second,” Seungcheol called out, catching him by the arm. Mingyu stopped dead and turned around, seeing Jihoon loitering by the opening to the hallway. He opened his mouth to tell him off before Seungcheol stepped in first. “I said Mingyu, not Jihoon. Can we have some privacy?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jihoon murmured, sauntering off down the hallway. He might be bullheaded, but Lee Jihoon knew not to defy their leader when he made a direct request.

“Can we go out to the balcony?”

“I’d rather you just get it over with, hyung,” Mingyu told him rather crossly, folding his arms. “I want to sleep before tomorrow.” That was a lie and he knew it. He was going to be on his phone for hours past midnight, but it didn’t matter because he really, really did not want to have a discussion with Seungcheol. 

“I’ll make it quick, then. How are you feeling?”

Shaky, tired, anxious, lightheaded...proud. “Fine.”

“Do you think you can dance tomorrow?”

That was the last thing he wanted to do. “Yes.”

“And what about food. Have you eaten today?”

Two apples. Four saltines. Three cups of tea. “Yes.”

“Listen, Mingyu, I know we haven’t been helping you out with...whatever’s going on-”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“Please don’t interrupt,” Seungcheol told him, pulling him down onto the couch beside him. “Like I was saying, we haven’t had much time to be there for eachother...to be there for you. I know you and Jihoon are still walking on eggshells around each other, and I know you’ve been losing weight. Whether it’s been a healthy diet or there’s something wrong with your eating, I don’t know. I haven’t had the time to help you with it, and I apologize for that. Sincerely.”

“I can take care of it.”

“All that I’m saying is that after this performance, we’ve got a little while to ourselves without the hectic schedules that promotions bring. I want all of us to take that time to heal and recover from the stress that we’ve gone through, especially you.”

“I don’t need extra attention, for the last time,” Mingyu said finally, pushing himself up and ignoring the starbursts in his vision. He felt his leader’s hand around his waist but didn’t immediately push him off. If he wasn’t there, Mingyu feared that he might fall over.

“I’ll believe you when you can stand up without nearly fainting, Kim Mingyu,” he said sternly. “Tomorrow, you’re eating the breakfast and lunch that I make for you, and after that, expect to get some extra attention from me, whether you like it or not.”

“Fuck you.” He stormed off as angrily as he could manage. He wasn’t entirely sure that it was convincing.

…

He heard his door opening and fell to the bed with a hopefully convincing deep breath. He was sleeping. Totally. He ignored the way his abdominals burned with the effort he’d been exerting for the past hour and his lungs yearned for air. But he was getting stronger, burning stomach fat, getting healthier. Most of all, he was getting healthier.

“You’ve always been shit at pretending to sleep,” Jihoon told him bluntly. “Get up. We’re leaving in an hour and Seungcheol made you breakfast.”

He peeked open an eye. “I can get ready in ten minutes. Let me sleep.”

“You used to be able to get ready in ten minutes before you started starving yourself. Now you need to be monitored. It was how we helped Seungkwan, and it’s how we’ll help you, so get your bony ass out of bed!”

Mingyu stood quickly, grabbing the stray book on his bedside to throw at his head when his knees buckled and vision popped. The world tilted, and suddenly, he was on his back, the book on the floor a few feet away, and Jihoon scrabbling at his shirt material, babbling words that Mingyu couldn’t hear. “I’m fine,” he breathed out, making eye contact and stopping his hyung’s hands. “I’m okay.”

“Bullshit,” Jihoon hissed. “You’re not performing today, and I’m telling Seungcheol that-”

“You’ll tell him nothing,” Mingyu roared before composing himself. He released Jihoon’s shoulders, wondering how his hands had gotten there in the first place. “It was a head rush from standing up to fast, not the end of the world. Just...plase, hyung. Let me handle this.”

“Right, because you’ve done such a good job of that in the past.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m fine!”

“When was the last time you weighed yourself?”

“What?”

“How heavy are you, Kim Mingyu?”

The number rang loudly in his head. 145.2! 145.2! You’re 145.2! Be proud of it! “158 on an empty stomach.”

Jihoon nodded, turning around. “I’d like that to be back above 160 before you go to bed tonight, and if you won’t weigh yourself in front of me, I’ll get Chan to help. We both know that he’s strong enough to hold you there, now that you’ve starved away all of your muscle mass. Come get breakfast.” He left the room, the door wide open, and Mingyu drove his foot as hard as he could into his bedside table, not even feeling the throb.

The food was instant oatmeal with yogurt and fruit. The leader had obviously gone for something healthier for him, but all Mingyu could see was numbers. 120 for each packet of oatmeal- two packets meant 240, and the yogurt was another hundred. The fruit added one more hundred, and the glass of milk was 130. Total: 570.

Mingyu didn’t like to go above 500 in a whole day, much less in one meal. His stomach sank and his eyes filled. He wasn’t hungry in the slightest.

“Eat it while it’s warm, Gyu,” Seungcheol said gently, taking a bite of his own sausage. “If you don’t, you won’t have strength for the show today.”

Mingyu chewed the honeydew and swallowed thickly, washing it down with a teaspoon of yogurt. The milk stared at him, daring him to add the calories to his collection. He /hated/ drinking his calories. “I have to pee.”

“Go after you eat,” Seungcheol told him, taking a piece of his honeydew and chewing it with a smile. “It’s good. Don’t you like it?”

He did. Honeydew was his favorite fruit, but he’d eat five pieces for his whole lunch, not ten as a part of a meal that he wouldn’t have eaten in the first place. It was just too much. Even being in the presence of it made his cheeks feel fuller.

He picked at it until Seungcheol turned his back, taking his greasy but empty plate to the sink. He shoved everything into his mouth and some into his pockets before dropping the rest on the floor with a gasp. “Shit!” It was muffled by the maple oats in his mouth. He looked to Seungcheol with wide eyes before retreating to the bathroom and spitting it all into the toilet. Nausea built and built until the rest of it came up.

He’d heard of people making themselves throw up, but he’d never had to do that. Any time he ate more than he deemed healthy, his body did it for him.

There he was, kneeling on the bathroom tiles with Wonwoo banging on the locked door, sobbing over oatmeal and the roll of skin- skin, not even fat,- on his stomach, and it made no difference to Mingyu. Any part of his body that folded, stretched, or bulged made him want to disappear. It was then that he made the realization.

Maybe Mingyu wasn’t as healthy as he’d originally thought.

Maybe Mingyu was sick.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> It's been in my google docs for quite some time, and frankly, I felt that it was a bit too personal to post, but it was finished and writing it was very therapeutic for me. Maybe reading it will be for somebody else. Who knows. Before you guys ask, I will not be writing a second chapter (at least not now). I'm sorry if that's disappointing, but I haven't quite figured out how to put the recovery process into words, much less words that anybody would actually want to read ("oh, look at that, Mingyu accidentally ate a hamburger and now he's crying". Like...it's not that good of a story haha) . Anyways, thank you all again. I love you all so much <3 
> 
> reach out if you want to talk.
> 
> (also psa, you don't have to be underweight to be sick. that is all.)


End file.
